


Alligator

by 221Btls



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:26:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221Btls/pseuds/221Btls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock in a tux and bow tie is far too tempting, even though he and John are at Royal Albert Hall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alligator

**Author's Note:**

> Alligator is a song off of Paul McCartney's magnificent album NEW.

Sitting in the front row of their loggia at the Royal Albert Hall, Sherlock watched the performers below.

And John watched Sherlock.

It wasn't that John couldn't appreciate a fine piece of opera now and then, after all, one _did_  have to sacrifice occasionally for one's partner. But... Sherlock, always beautiful, was especially stunning in the tux. The long, slim lines of his body accentuated by the expert cut of the fabric, the grace and elegance of the tapered fingers that endearingly fiddled with the buttons on the cuff were about to undo John. He was no less than amazed that he had been (barely) able to keep his hands off Sherlock before they left the flat, but Carmen was one of Sherlock's favorite operas and the doctor knew there would be time later. Lots of time. He would make sure of it.

He snuggled his hand into Sherlock's and was bestowed brief, but meaningful, attention by the silver-blue eyes that could light up the darkest room.

John watched as Sherlock closed his eyes to the spectacle on the stage, allowing the music to become a part of him~ his body swaying lightly, his fingers acting as conductor, his face rapturously reflecting the emotions of the music...his body responding with the basest sensuality.

Though seated in a walled off box section, there still was not sufficient privacy for John to touch Sherlock in the way he wanted; something as simple as cupping his inner thigh could get them reprimanded, or worse yet, politely asked to leave. No, he would restrain himself.  For now. He would have to settle with lightly stroking Sherlock's palm with his thumb. To most, Sherlock's reaction would have gone unnoticed, but not by John; he could see the edges of Sherlock's eyes soften, his chest heave slightly, the hitch in the beat of his lover's fingers in response to the intimate touch.

The intermission came and yet they were still alone, the sole occupants of the 8 seat box section. It happened occasionally, a group of theatre-goers lost track of time or found something else to do other than make good use of the expensive tickets.

John's desire had been simmering for hours and now, now it was almost too much. As they watched masses of audience members leave their seats to go to the bar or to the toilets, John slowly and deliberately loosed the curtains from their ropes at each side of the box, pulling them to meet in the middle.

Sherlock, having moved to the top level to stretch, watched this act with great interest; he raised a sardonic eyebrow and asked "Aren't you afraid people will talk?"

The small force of nature that was John Watson went to meet Sherlock where he stood and replied with a calmness that belied the urgency he felt, "I don't _give_  a single fuck what people will think." Lowering his already quiet voice, he leaned in and, unbuttoning Sherlock's jacket, whispered against his lips "The only thing I'm afraid of is exploding if I don't _fuck you_ right this minute."

He put his hand behind Sherlock's neck, bringing the detectives' lips down to meet his own. Sweet fucking god. How someone who could be so cantankerous could possess such soft, yielding lips he didn't have a clue. But he didn't have time to think about it, he was more concerned about what might be the cause of the very possible spontaneous combustion~ contact with the mouth he so hungrily tore into, or the fire in his groin. One hand still on Sherlock's neck, the other unraveled his own bow tie, releasing the constriction from around his throat.

John tore his lips away, allowing himself the space to meet Sherlock's eyes, boring into them. "I want you, right here. Right now."

"Make me." Sherlock just stood there, looking down at John as though he hadn't just been kissed within an inch of his life.

Incredulous, John asked " _What?_ "

"You heard me. Make. Me." If John didn't understand the words, the challenge on Sherlock's face was clear.

"Really? You want to make this a game, now?" Surely he couldn't have been wrong; Sherlock wanted him as much as John wanted him. He took a quick glance down to verify his conclusions. Yep. There was a full-blown hard on pushing at Sherlock's trousers.

"Well aren't _you_? After all, there is only a curtain between us and about 4000 people... " Sherlock's voice trailed off as he let the transparency of his statement speak for itself.

"Okay, have it your way. Turn around," John commanded. Sherlock didn't comply, but neither did he resist as John firmly took him by the arms and turned him around. Reaching around the front of Sherlock's waist, he unbuckled his belt and swiftly dropped the fine trousers and silk pants to the floor, revealing the alabaster arse that rarely, if ever, failed to cause him to suck his breath in when viewing it in its full glory. He reverently caressed the left cheek and unexpectedly gave it a swift slap, causing Sherlock to flinch slightly in surprise as John admired the pink spot that remained from his handiwork.

"Bend over," John demanded next.

Nothing happened except that Sherlock turned his head to look at John with an unconvincing look of boredom on his face. Git. Well, wasn't Sherlock cheeky tonight. On occasion he and Sherlock did play bondage games, but given the sense of danger inherent in these particular circumstances, even this lite version was highly intoxicating.

John pressed his hand against Sherlock's shoulder, causing his lover to bend forward, far enough forward until a set of elbows landed with a thump on the table he bent over.

Grabbing the knee-weakening arse that was jutting out towards him, John kneaded and squeezed, reaching his mouth down to lick, nip at soft flesh. Putting one hand between the naked thighs, he lightly fingered the base of Sherlock's cock and just as he heard a slight gasp start to form, he pulled away, bringing his hand back towards him, following the path of the deep crevice. The low moan that escaped Sherlock's lips was just too much.

Hurriedly, John pulled the first condom out and carefully (don't tear it!) put it on his erection. He repeated the process for Sherlock's, a more challenging procedure given that he was doing it entirely by feel. Condoms weren't part of their normal routine, but he tended to carry a couple on him just in case they had the opportunity for some impromptu public sex. And how glad he had done so this time. How fucking glad he was.

Slicking his first two fingers in his mouth, he prepared Sherlock with one finger, then two. He edged his hardness into the recess, a little, a little more, easing his way in until Sherlock took the full length of him. He nearly came with just the glorious tightness around him, but he held off; it was always, always just as important to him that Sherlock received full pleasure from their activities.

Sherlock's hips, now gripped by John's hands, swayed front and back, back and front, meeting every thrust John now gave.

John reached around and pumped Sherlock's cock, the engorged member straining at the latex encasing it. Lost in his desire, thrusting, pumping, John didn't notice the moans escaping his partner, the moans increasing in intensity and volume until, after the sudden onslaught of Sherlock's shudder, he heard his name shouted, "John!" Abruptly brought back to the here and now (they were in Royal Albert Hall for god's sakes!) by the full knowledge of how well that deep baritone would carry through the hall, John clasped his hand over Sherlock's mouth, muffling any further sound, as he thrust one more time, his climax nearly ripping him apart.

Both of them panting, they held their breaths as a knock came on the door and the knob turned. "Is everything all right in there sir?"

The intruder, clearly an employee checking on the commotion, was blocked from entering by the fortunate happenstance of where John stood. Catching his breath, John cleared his throat. "Everything's just fine; my partner was excited to see an old friend down on the floor that he hadn't seen in a while. My apologies; I'll tell him to keep it down."

"Well, if you're sure..." the attendant sounded uncertain.

"Yes, everything's fine, just fine. Thank you very much."

As Sherlock and John re-dressed, John glanced at the small space around them. "I wonder where the rest of these blokes are, not that I'm complaining..." looking at Sherlock with a tired happiness.   He was absolutely sure he couldn't love Sherlock more than he did right then.

He was wrong.

Sherlock looked away. "Well, mmmm, _we_ are the blokes."

John looked at Sherlock quizzically. "What do you mean, ' _We_  are the blokes'?"

Sherlock, with a look that, for him, would have to pass as sheepish, "I deduced that one of your fantasies was to have sex here, so I, uhm, I bought all the seats."

John's mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. Instead he used it to crush Sherlock's mouth to his, wrapping his arms around the taller man to bring their bodies together, touching everywhere they possibly could.

Coming up for air, John shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

Sherlock just smiled one of rare smiles and said, "One of the night guards at the Eye used to be part of my homeless ...." He wasn't able to finish the sentence, his lips suddenly occupied by those of a certain ex-soldier.

The voices in the hall once again hushed as the strains of music indicated the intermission was over.

The door sitting wide open, there was no one in Loggia 11 to notice.

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you reading Here There and Everywhere~ I haven't abandoned it! I just got my laptop back and will resume working on the next chapter. Yea!


End file.
